


Of Floods and Waves

by groundkei



Series: HQ Angst Week 2020 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accident, Angst, Coma, Death, Hospital, Hurt, Major character death - Freeform, Other, Sad, atsumu centric, atsumu loses his brother, married osasuna, please don't drink and drive, sakuatsu exes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27380371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groundkei/pseuds/groundkei
Summary: Osamu stays unconscious for the rest of the night, but Atsumu remains awake, watching as the sun slowly set over the horizon, tainting their room with rays of gold that glimmered against their skin. Atsumu turns to look at his sleeping brother, thinking just how alive he looked the moment the sun touched his skin.or, atsumu looks after his brother while he's in a coma.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: HQ Angst Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997266
Comments: 4
Kudos: 125
Collections: Haikyuu Angst Week 2020





	Of Floods and Waves

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags /carefully/
> 
> HQ Angst Week Day 3  
> Prompt: Defeat, "I can't lose you, too."

“Samu, do you remember the time when we broke the sink and flooded the kitchen?”

Atsumu stares at his brother, eyes casted gently over the veins running along Osamu’s closed eyelids, a humorless smile painted right above his lips as he vividly tries to remember that one particular moment during their childhood that had been long since forgotten. He doesn’t know why he gets reminded of it now, of the way they both watched droplets of water slowly turn into pools of liquid as it starts to run down the sides of their kitchen cabinets and onto the floor. He had screamed, then, he remembers. _Samu, the water! Get the mop! Get the mop! Mama is going to kill us!_

Osamu had just stared at him, unmoving on his spot as he watches the overflowing water touch the tips of his slippers, his toes wincing at the cold water dampening his skin. Atsumu continues o scream, strings of curses flowing out of his mouth in rapid fire. _Samu, the mop!_ But Osamu didn’t care. He only shrugged and said, _What’s the point? We’re still going to get scolded, anyway._

The overflowing water that had flooded their kitchen had been cold, and he remembers that aspect much, much clearer as he sits alone now, accompanied by nothing but the quiet beeps coming from Osamu’s heart monitor. He lets his gaze fleet over to the thin tube connected at the back of his brother’s hand, watching as the IV slowly dropped from its bag, slow and antagonizing as the starkness of the hospital room they are in swallows them whole.

“When you didn’t get the mop because you didn’t see the point of cleaning up since we’re already going to get scolded anyway?” Atsumu swallows hard, the lump inside his throat growing heavier and heavier as each second passes by in silence. Osamu continues to lie unconscious, the thick tube connected to his mouth as though sitting there in mockery. “You told me we shouldn’t dwell too much on cases like that when we already know it’s a hopeless cause. Do you remember that?”

Nothing. Atsumu runs a hand through his hair, watching the steady rise and fall of his twin brother’s chest. How long has it been since he had fallen unconscious? Weeks? Almost a month now? It feels like eternity to Atsumu.

“Am I...” Atsumu breathes, his voice shaking at the edges. “Am I supposed to give up now, Samu? Do you want me to stop waiting for you?”

The thought alone scares him. He lets out a chuckle, eyes hard and indignant against the bruises covering his brother’s pale skin.

“I don’t want to let you go,” Atsumu whispers as he lets a few droplets of tears run down his cheeks. “I don’t think I’ll be able to give up on you, Samu.”

Silence. It almost seemed deafening.

Osamu stays asleep for the rest of the day.

* * *

“Are you going to push through with the case?”

Atsumu carefully watches as Suna stands by the hospital room’s window, staring blankly at the falling leaves from outside. He shifts uncomfortably on his usual seat – right beside his brother’s hospital bed. Near enough to see his face clearly, to see any signs of life flowing from within him. Near enough to still be able to hear him breathe quietly. Albeit faint and slow, it is still there.

“Of course,” Suna answers to his brother-in-law’s question. “They need to pay for the damages they’ve done.”

Atsumu sighs through his nose, lowering his gaze onto his brother’s sleeping face. He still remembers how difficult it had been for him the night he heard of the accident. Suna’s panicked voice through the phone. His knees shaking as he ran through the hospital’s corridors, breath hitching at the thought of Samu being in a critical condition. _He got hit by a car!_ Suna had told him through tears, _the driver was drunk! Osamu was only crossing the road when it happened!_

Fuck.

Sighing, he reaches out to touch his brother’s fingertips, carefully tracing the callouses on his palms from years and years of playing volleyball, of the few scars tainting his skin from the burns he got while cooking all night. Atsumu knows his brother’s hands had always been rough like this; he knows how much Osamu’s hands had always be hard and warm just like his. But now – as he slowly lets his fingertips graze the inner corners of his hand, he can only feel cold and nothing else. The warm hand he had grown up tending to is now nothing but the quiet breeze. Cold and unrelenting. Lifeless.

“I might have to quit volleyball soon.”

Atsumu lifts his gaze back onto his brother-in-law. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Why?” he asks, frowning.

Suna turns back to look at him, eyes betraying of any emotions. Atsumu feels his breath hitch as the unfamiliarity of sorrow in his friend’s eyes.

“Well, somebody needs to take care of Onigiri Miya, right?”

Atsumu scowls at him. “What are you-“

“I don’t want to stay optimistic, Atsumu,” Suna sighs, his voice breaking for the first time in weeks. Atsumu lowers his eyes onto the tiled floor, refusing to look at his friend’s demise. “I need to accept it if anything happens to him.”

“Nothing will happen to him...”

“You don’t know that!”

Atsumu shakes his head at him. “He’ll survive, Suna. My brother will survive.”

Suna only stares at him. He turns his head back to see Osamu still sleeping on the hospital bed, his face seemigly paler now than how it had been during his first week of being confined inside this hospital room. The starkness of the white walls seemed to have been takig away the remaining life his brother has.

“And if he doesn’t?”

Atsumu clenches his jaw. “He will.”

* * *

Bokuto approaches Atsumu quietly, sweat slowly trickling down his forehead and onto his neck as he takes the seat beside the younger. Atsumu only continues to watch the court in complete silence, his eyes only following the ball up in the air. Every once in a while, he would wince when the ball would come in contact with the floor, the loud _slam!_ reverberating through the whole gym.

“Atsumu-san,” Bokuto calls out to him. “Aren’t you going to train?”

“Later, Bokuto-san.” He sighs.

Bokuto nods at him, sitting quietly on the seat he’s taken. The two of them watched the court in nothing but passing sighs and blank stares, both unaccustomed to the misplaced silence that had never once visited them in years. They have always been loud; the two of them have always been the ones to talk the most among the rest of their teammates, yet Atsumu’s mood seems to be affecting almost everyone as well for the past few weeks.

“How’s...” Bokuto starts to shift on his spot. “How’s your brother doing?”

Atsumu clears his throat. “Good...” he trails off. “I mean, his condition is stable. At least, for now.”

“I heard Akaashi went and visited the hospital the other day?”

Atsumu nods, eyes still trained on the court. “He did.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

Atsumu lets out another sigh.

“Bokuto-san.”

Atsumu’s muscles went rigid at the familiar voice, his jaw clenching once, twice, until he lost count. Bokuto shifts of his spot from beside him, a tensed chuckle escaping his lip as he turns to face Sakusa who is now standing near where they are currently sitting. Atsumu does not turn to look at him. Instead, he continues to watch the court in silence.

“Hey!” Bokuto waves at him. “What’s up?”

“Coach is looking for you.” Sakusa tells him, his eyes flickering onto Atsumu’s hunched back for a split second.

“Oh!” Bokuto turns back to Atsumu and pats his back. “I’ll get going now, Tsumu! Talk to you later?”

Atsumu nods at him. “Sure, Bokuto-san.”

Silence. Atsumu groans internally, cursing at himself as he slowly feels the misplace awkwardness seeping through his bones like a leech. The constant dead air around him is slowly starting to get on his nerves. _Fucking hell._

“What is it?” Atsumu asks when he still felt Sakusa’s presence from behind him, lingering. His ex-boyfriend does not answer immediately. Instead, Sakusa continues to watch his back, lips pursing into a thin line behind his face mask as he towers over Atsumu.

“How have you been?” he finally asks after a few moments. His voice is quiet and hesitant, terrified of words and how they might come out of his sharp tongue. Atsumu still does not turn to look at him.

“Good.”

Sakusa frowns at his short answer. “How’s your brother?”

Atsumu raises an eyebrow and turns to him. Sakusa stays rooted on his spot, but he feels himself flinching ever so lightly under his former lover’s sharp gaze. Atsumu – the great and lovely Atsumu, always alive and ignited – is now of nothing but remaining ashes. Sakusa barely recognizes who he really is anymore. As though waves of water have already flooded his entire being, drip, drip, dripping down the core of his being and filling his soul with nothing but liquid. Cold and azure, reflecting against his eyes made out of mirrors. Such fragile things.

“Why?”

“I just wanted to know-“

“He’s fine.” Atsumu snaps, flinching at his own voice when he realizes his own actions. “Sorry. Uh... He’s fine. He’s stable.”

Sakusa keeps his gaze glued to him. “Is he awake now?”

Atsumu bites down on his lower lip. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No... he trails off. “Not yet.”

“I’m sorry...” Sakusa sighs. “If you need anyone to talk to, you know I’m always here to listen, right?”

Atsumu meets his gaze, his bloodshot eyes blank as they stared back at him. “Omi...”

“Look, I- I know we ended on bad terms, but if you need me-“

Atsumu shakes his head. “I’m fine,” he tells him. “Thank you, but I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Okay,” Sakusa breathes out. “I understand.”

The air inside the hospital room that night seemed to have grown colder as he sits beside his brother’s bed. Suna is fast asleep on the couch near the small night stand, his breathing even under his thick blanket. Atsumu lets out a yawn, his eyelids drooping every once in a while. The heart monitor keeps him awake, though. He continues to listen to its obnoxious beeping sounds, the constant rise and fall of the lines being flashed across its small screen just enough to keep him company. At the very least, he still has something to hold onto.

Osamu stays unconscious for the rest of the night, but Atsumu remains awake, watching as the sun slowly set over the horizon, tainting their room with rays of gold that glimmered against their skin. Atsumu turns to look at his sleeping brother, thinking just how _alive_ he looked the moment the sun touched his skin.

“Morning,” Suna grumbles under his breath, stretching his limbs.

“Morning.” Atsumu greets back.

Osamu still remains asleep.

* * *

The ocean is unforgiving, Atsumu thinks. The ocean has always been unforgiving.

He didn’t realize how long he has been holding on until the sails have finally broken away from his grip, his calloused palm scratching desperately at the corners of the earth, the waves unrelenting to his demise. He is reminded of that time when he and his brother had flooded their kitchen, a silly antic turned into a huge mess right in front of their eyes. He remembers water soaking his slippers wet, cold and intimidating as they continued to flow. Perhaps, Osamu has been swallowed by them – of the waves that he so desperately tried to keep at bay. The sounds of seagulls flying over their heads are of nothing but pure mockery. _The ocean is unforgiving,_ they told him, and indeed they are.

“How long do we have left?” Suna asks as he runs a hand through his husband’s hair.

Atsumu watches him carefully. “A few more hours,” he answers. “We still have time.”

“This is the best choice, right?” Suna turns to meet Atsumu’s gaze. “Tell me this is the best choice for him.”

“He needs to rest now,” Atsumu tells him, voice barely above a whisper. “He deserves that.”

“Okay,” Suna says, nodding. He starts to mutter reassurances, but Atsumu figures he is now talking more to himself, to console himself for his husband’s passing. They have finally decided to take Osamu off life support after months of deliberation.

Sighing, Atsumu reaches out to take his brother’s hand in his. Defeat is something he had grown accustomed to over the years, yet he’s always had someone to watch his back after every loss. Osamu’s hands had always been warm and comforting after every fight, after every bad game and failed tosses. When they were younger, Atsumu remebers kissing his brother’s then soft fingertips, warm and comforting against his own skin. His brother has always been warm – his presence after every loss a proof that home will always be where your heart is. Yet now, as he feels Osamu’s cold hand above his, defeat is something he fears. Defeat – without Osamu to come home to, without his brother to console him and hug him – is now nothing but the greatest monster of all.

Suna rests his forehead against his husband’s arm, weeping. “I can’t lose you, too...”

Atsumu swallows thickly, the lump in his throat now seemingly a permanent resident within him. The ocean is unforgiving, the waters a menace to him. They are all painted in blue and nothing else; cold and unforgiving against his skin. Osamu is somewhere out in the sea – searching for the shore, waiting.

Atsumu stays by the sands, looking for the waves that will bring his brother back home to him.

**Author's Note:**

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